


Something Important

by chickenwinginit



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenwinginit/pseuds/chickenwinginit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan calls Arin while signing CDs in Oregon and begs him to drive down to meet him. Despite the massive inconvenience, Arin agrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Important

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick, fluffy fic to make up for my recent inactivity. It's been a busy life, but I'm hoping to be posting more regularly come summer. So yeah- sorry, and thanks. Sorry this isn't my best.

The call came at roughly two in the afternoon, in the middle of a recording session with Ross and Barry. Normally he’d ignore it, because, well, they’re recording, but the name on the screen lent some urgency. 

“Guys, pause the capture for a second,” said Arin, voice vaguely rushed and hurried, “Dan’s calling.” 

Their surprised expressions reflected his exactly— Dan was in Oregon at the moment, doing CD signings for Under the Covers. At two in the afternoon he should have been plenty busy; he wouldn’t have been calling unless it were something important, perhaps something dire. 

Barry paused the recording and Arin thumbed the ‘answer’ button on the phone. “Hey, Dan?” 

“Arin?” 

Dan’s voice came out waifish, even a little shaky. Arin was hit instantly with the sense of something profound. 

“Yeah, dude, what’s up?” He asked, trying to bite back his unease, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, but like… Arin, can you get down here?” 

“What?!” He threw a look over his shoulder at his friends, incredulous. “To Oregon? Dan, you’re 300-something miles away.” 

“I know, I know,” Dan said, breathlessly, laughing a little. “But this is important. Like, really important.”

Barry’s eyebrows were hiked high up his forehead, and he was watching Arin with obvious anxiety, tapping his heavy fingers hard against his knee, which he was jiggling up and down restlessly. Ross was practically insatiable— impatient for information, he had taken to crawling across the couch and nearly into Arin’s lap, grabbing for the phone and shouting “What?? What is it?!” in his manic quest for answers. Feeling everyone’s panic, Arin broke, snapping into the phone. 

“Dan, what the hell’s going on? Are you safe? Are you in danger? Why the fuck do you need me in Oregon?” 

“WHAT?” Ross croaked, struck by the tidbit of information. He began to scramble even harder and Arin had to fight him off with his shoulders. 

“I told you I’m perfectly fine, dude. I’m great, actually— but I’m not kidding when I say that I need you here, like, as soon as conceivably possible. I’ve got something you’ve gotta see.” 

“You understand that that’s incredibly cryptic and foreboding, yes?” He said, grabbing Ross by the wrist and shoving him backwards. 

Dan laughed. “I can give you the name and room of the hotel I’m staying at, and you’ll have free room and board?” 

He sighed, knowing there would be no way to deny him. Ross finally relented his assault with a steadying hand from Barry and Arin hummed loudly, comically into the phone, mocking rumination; as if he could say anything but yes. “I guess that sounds okay,” he aquised finally, “I’ll leave in an hour.”

“Awesome!” Dan’s voice had risen an octave in excitement; Arin heard a distinct rise and fall and thought he may have been jumping for joy. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

*

After the mess of bowing out of a Steam Strain session only halfway through and canceling all of his plans for the remainder of the week, Arin sped to his house and started packing. That process was just as crazy, and even a little frustrating, given that he didn’t know what he was packing for— he hoped idly that Dan wasn’t planning to throw him into the spotlight of anything as he tossed sweatpants and sports shorts into his suitcase; at least nothing that could be broadcasted publicly. 

He had said three, but all in all he ended up leaving around three-thirty, turning onto busy L.A. traffic with the knowledge that he had a long journey ahead of him. “Only for you,” he muttered, cursing Dan only half-bitterly. 

To be honest, Arin was kind of happy to make this trip to see Dan: things had been hazy lately, a tornado of meetings and cons and work, and the two had barely had any time to one another. He knew dimly that Dan had been thrilled with the torrent surrounding the release of the new Ninja Sex Party album, knew that he was caught up in a work-storm all his own and loving it despite the lack of sleep, but he could only feel happy for him incrementally when his schedule was allowed it. He hadn’t had the chance to feel the real gravity of his feelings in the bustle, but as the thriving city fell away in the miles behind him, a real longing began to fester. To lie down in a hotel room with Danny, to just sit with him in peace while he signed CDs, would be a welcome respite from their chaotic lives. He planned to cherish it in full. 

*

Several rest stops and minor traffic jams later, Arin parked his car outside Dan’s hotel. It was already 5:30 in the morning, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, mooring pale streaks of light in the still domineering blackness. “You better be awake,” he texted Dan venomously, “because I sure as shit am and I can’t feel my eyes.” 

Lo and behold, when the sliding doors opened into the hotel commons Dan was there in the dining area at his right, draped in one of his famous kimonos with two cups of coffee on the table. He caught sight of Arin across the room and ducked to bury a snort in his palm. 

He stood when Arin shambled up to him, murmuring a cheery “hey babe” and pulling him in close for a kiss. The affection was a welcome electricity to Arin’s tired body, Dan’s coffee-stained lips an alive, happy taste against his chapped and clammy ones. 

“Whatever you have to show me better be fuckin’ good,” Arin mumbled, militarizing his exhaustion. Dan just laughed and guided him into his seat, grabbing a cup of coffee and sliding it his way. 

“It is, I promise. We don’t have to be at the warehouse until 9, so you might have time to catch some sleep if you need it. Fair warning, though: Brain’s snoozing up a storm in the other bed.” 

He threw his head back and groaned. “What’s even the point, then?” 

“There really is none,” Dan giggled, shaking his head. 

So they spent the time in a kind of twilight, Arin too tired to do little more than nurse his coffee and poke and prod at Dan, trying to deliver him some of the affection through touch that he hadn’t the capacity to communicate in words. Sensing this, Dan eventually pulled his chair up next to Arin’s and let the younger man rest on his shoulder, Arin’s hands finding his and enveloping them even though Dan’s were bigger. 

He did end up napping a little bit— eventually the lazy circles he traced along Dan’s knuckles slowed and went limp, and Dan could feel Arin’s chest touching him softly and then falling away to the rhythm of his gentle breathing. It was exactly what he had asked for: peace, an intimate moment of respite between the two of them that could only exist at this random time in this random state. It was beautiful, really. 

*

The respite ended abruptly when Brian shook them awake at a quarter to eight, bed-raggled and grumpy in his fresh departure from sleep. “You coulda taken the bed,” he told Arin vaguely. 

“No, he couldn’t have,” Dan replied. 

The two of them woke up slowly, stiff from sleeping upright in such spindly wooden chairs; Arin’s eyes were hurting now, wanting for more sleep, and the first thing he did upon waking up was get himself another coffee. 

After a quick breakfast, they began the ritual of freshening up and preparing for the day, faithful to the routine of any other morning. Arin showered, dried his hair, and was feeling much more energetic as he slipped off his greasy road trip clothes and into crisp, freshly washed ones. Brian took the longest to get ready, lumbering through the bathroom like a man half dead although he’d gotten the best sleep out of the both of them.

“Buck up, dude,” Arin quipped, now plenty awake and in the mood for teasing. 

“Fuck off.”

Arin didn’t actually know where the warehouse was, so for the sake of simplicity, he hopped into the back of Dan’s car with him and Brian. Brain was happy with the arrangement, pleased to have full control over the radio while Dan was distracted with driving. 

“So, Bri,” he asked, half-shouting over the jaunty nightmare of Rescue Me (Merla the Mermaid), a tune by his new favorite non-artist Sharkman Frank, “do you know what this super important thing is, by any chance?”

“Yeeeup.”

“And is it as super important as Dan’s making it out to be?” 

“Damn straight.” 

Arin fell back in his seat, his excitement growing. “Well alright then.”

The warehouse was small and unassuming, but sophisticated, somehow. It was metal and pristine on the outside, and simply built— Arin guessed if he had to explain the vibe it gave him in a word he’d say seasoned, or wise.

“They do distribution for a lot of small-time artists,” Dan was explaining as he walked him up the parking lot to the front doors, hand on the small of his back, “they’re big on financing dreams, y’know?”

“They’re in the diamond-in-the-rough league themselves, after all,” Brian added, “being an aspiring big business and such.”

“There’s a lot of integrity in that,” Arin said. Ah, he realized, there’s the word.

The interior of the building was quite the same— a quaint, gray office space, given life by the various pictures of esoteric musicians clogging its walls and the overflow of paperwork and half-developed CD cases on the tables they passed. Arin kept an eye out, looking for the telling red of the NSP cover, but hadn’t spied it so far. They were going still farther back in the building, entering door after door seemingly at random, though Dan and Brian seemed sure of their route. 

“Okay, maybe you can’t tell me the big important thing, I get that, but can you at least tell me where we’re going? I feel like I’m in that maze from The Shining.” 

Dan laughed. “To the waaay back, Baby Bear. We need the biggest room.” 

“What, did you guys rent an elephant?”

Brian scoffed. “Dude, I wish.” 

Finally, they stopped him outside of a nondescript wooden door, both trying —and failing— to mask their glee. Dan was shifting from foot to foot, grinning uncontrollably, and even Brian, who was normally stoic, was smiling unprompted; maybe this really was something big. Arin waited for them to open the door impatiently. 

“So,” Dan said, drawing himself up all dramatically, clearly ready to prelude his big reveal, “you know how we told fans we’d sign all the albums that were preordered before a certain date?” 

“Of course course!” Arin confirmed, unable to help himself from returning Dan’s smile, catching in its fondness, “that’s why you’re here.” 

“Well, check this out.” 

And Brian swung the door open.

“Holy shit!”

Tables full of CDs, stacked towards the ceiling. There had to be thousands, tens of thousands, even— and on the table farthest back, the only one even relatively empty, were two chairs and a bucket of sharpies. 

“Dan, this is incredible,” Arin said, walking into the room and approaching a table, where Dan and Brian’s faces stared up at him in abundance. He picked up a CD and, cradling it, swiveled around to face the musicians. “How many are there?” 

“Around 20,00 last time we checked,” Brian said, “maybe more. There’re more shipments on the way.”

“Holy shit!” He said again. “Guys, congratulations!” 

Dan’s eyes were shining with pride, and he walked into the room shakily, as if he were still stricken by disbelief. “I wanted us to make it so bad, y’know?” He said, sounding hoarse, “But I never expected we’d make it here.” 

“You guys are amazing,” Arin told him immediately, “you’re crazy talented, and insanely fucking funny. Of course you’d make it. Dude! I’m so happy for you.” 

“I wanted you to see,” Dan said, drawing closer. 

Arin grabbed his hand as he approached and squeezed hard and proud. “I knew the album was going good from the news you guys were giving me, but this— holy shit, it’s just— in real life it takes your breath away. Thank you for dragging my ass down here. I’m so glad I get to see this in person.” 

Nodding, Dan pulled his hand free and slung it around Arin’s shoulder, burying his nose into the crook of his neck. 

“I couldn’t ask for anything better.” 

*  
That night, Dan and Arin settled into bed in a new hotel room; a single with a king size bed, across the hall from Brian and his apocalyptic snoring. 

“Hey, Arin” Dan said, not looking at him but at the floor as he struggled and squirmed to shed his jeans so he could sleep in the comfort of his boxers. 

“What’s up?” 

“You know I dragged you down here to thank you, right?” 

“Wait, what?” Arin sat up in bed, genuinely surprised. Dan was a kind guy, and displaced his pride this way often, but for this he really couldn’t see a genuine reason. “It’s your album. It’s your success.” 

Finally free of his pants, Dan shimmied into bed and under the covers. “I know,” he said, popping up at the head of the bed and resting his elbows on the pillows, “but I wouldn’t be here without you. Before we met I was just some kid smoking weed in his living room.” 

Arin took Dan’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss. “Maybe. But you couldn’t have done it without talented and without hard work of your own. Don’t discredit the shit you did, man.” 

Dan smiled into the kiss and caressed his cheek, then pulled away a moment later. “Seeing those CDs yesterday just…” He sighed wistfully and looked Arin in the eyes. “I knew that was something I had to celebrate with you. I just couldn’t believe it.” 

“I’m really, really proud of all the work you’ve done, man. You deserve it.” 

Dan smiled crookedly, looking almost absent, and dropped his head onto the pillows. “I’m really, really happy.”

“You’re not gonna get all snooty now and quit Game Grumps on me, are ya, Mr. Famous?” 

“Ha!” He gave an honest bark at the absurdity, then reached his hand out and placed it over Arin’s, looking into his eyes with a kind of depthless sincerity that almost surprised him. 

“This wouldn’t be nearly as wonderful as it is without you, Ar.” A pause. “Still wonderful, yes, but you not being there would be a significant bummer.” 

Arin laughed. “Well, thanks,” he said, “I love you too, Dan.”   
Dan grinned. “Good.” 

*

Days later, back in L.A., Arin received a text from Dan: “Dude, you’ve gotta see this text from Avi.” 

Quickling following were two pictures, first of him and Brian posing behind a massive shipment of CDs, then a screencap of his conversation:

“You poor gays, how many cds in each box?” 

Arin’s laugh shook the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at chickenwinginit.tumblr.com if you wanna party


End file.
